A Fragile Heart for the King of Clowns
by CarpeDiemForLife
Summary: A band of traveling gypsies request a home at the Court of Miracles. Though the troupe's leader brings painful memories for Clopin with her, he accepts her into his kingdom, and soon finds himself enjoying her company more than he initially expected to.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's note: Thank you for reading! This is just the beginning, the very short beginning. Please review or PM to let me know if you are interested in seeing more. Thanks again!_

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><p>It was getting dark out, and there was no more time for puppet shows. Quickly packing his props away, Clopin hummed a cheery tune, practically bouncing as he worked. Despite his outwardly chipper disposition, there was in truth something much more serious on Clopin's mind.<p>

_The children were laughing and smiling as Clopin expressed his story through song. Clopin's mini-me popped up, and the children cheered and clapped. Clopin smiled at how enthralled the young ones were, when suddenly movement caught his eye._

_Though it was no more than a second, Clopin was sure that he had seen a shadow slip into the back of his wagon. But who? An assassin perhaps? A spy? A fan? Less likely. His fans were the children, and they stood in front of the wagon, not in the back of it._

Shutting his chest of tricks with a click, Clopin took a moment to prepare himself. Hopping down onto the pavement, he circled around to enter his wagon through the secret back door. He flung it open and leaped inside. A flurry of moving colors ensued, but it lasted no more than two seconds. Clopin had not even seen who the intruder was—aside from her female figure—but now she was firmly in his grasp, her arm twisted up behind her, and her body being held dangerously close against his. She did not seem to be struggling, but Clopin did not trust this docile appearance.

"I would not move, if I were you."

His whisper drifted lightly, teasing the air beside her ear, as if his words were no more than a joke. This could not have been further from the truth.

"That was not my intent, I assure you." Her voice was soft and bright and... calm? Well, that wouldn't do. Clopin tightened his grip in annoyance.

"What are you doing in my wagon?"

"Perhaps you would be so kind as to loosen your grip?"

"It would be unwise for you to deny me answers, mademoiselle."

"So stubborn... I sought the King of the Gypsies of Paris. I never dreamt that he would be so rude to his own people."

Finally Clopin released his hold on her. She spun around to face him with a graceful, dramatic flair that made her movements look like a dance. Her stance was casual and verging on—dare he think it?—seductive. The girl was slouched slightly to the side, with one hip popped out carelessly. Her slim figure was accentuated by the form-fitting blue dress she wore. Tied atop her head was a purple bandana, and her straight black hair fell down to the middle of her back.

"Who are you?" Clopin asked hesitantly, examining her carefully. She certainly did look like a gypsy, complete with one golden hoop earring, but looks could be deceiving.

"My name is Adalyn," she answered simply. "And yours, mon cherie?"

"_I_... am Clopin," was the proud reply. "Where is your home?"

"Why, Paris of course." Clopin's eyes narrowed at her insolence.

"Do not lie to me. I know every one of my people, and you are not one. Where _is_... your _home_?"

"I am a traveling gypsy," Adalyn revealed with an amused smile. "Paris is my most recent home."

"Then from where do you _come_?"

"Most recently... Venice."

"Why are you here?"

"My people and I need to stay with you for the time of our stay here. I believe it is called... the Court of Miracles, no?"

"And why... should I trust you?"

The woman pulled something out of the space between her bosom and dress. In the dim light, Clopin could not make it out, until Adalyn stepped closer and held it out to him. It was a beautiful, purple, silk handkerchief embroidered with the letter 'C'.

"Do you know the gypsies Christelle and Henri? As I understand it they are members of your group here, so you must know them." Adalyn did not notice the stiffening in the King's shoulders, and the suddenly cold look in his eyes. Oblivious to these changes, she continued.

"When they went on the road many years ago, they joined our troupe, see? I was only a child then; my mother was the leader. When Christelle and Henri returned here to you so they could raise their child in Paris, Christelle gave this handkerchief to my mother, with the invitation to come to the Court of Miracles when our travels should call for it. When my mother passed on and I became the leader of the troupe, I decided it was time to come to Paris and have Christelle's promise honored. I wish very much to see Henri and Christelle. Will you lead me to them?"

Attempting to stifle his scowl, Clopin quickly snatched the handkerchief from her fingers. Adalyn was very startled by this, and her self-assured, calm composure broke as her eyes widened and she stumbled backwards a step. There was a dangerous glow about Clopin now, which had not been there before, even when he had been restraining her. What had brought _this_ on?

"I will honor the promise made to you by Christelle," he almost hissed at her. "Come. Bring your people."

Obligingly, Adalyn rushed out of the wagon to collect her troupe members—who were waiting patiently in a side street—and together the traveling band of gypsies followed the now silent King through the streets of Paris, on their way to the Court of Miracles.


	2. Chapter 2

Adalyn and her troupe settled into tents in the Court of Miracles. As soon as he'd made sure they were being taken care of the King had rushed away, clearly upset and seeking solitude, or at least... seeking separation from Adalyn and the others.

As a result of such, Adalyn was feeling rather confused and distressed as she unpacked her things. Clopin was acting strangely, she had not been taken to see Henri and Christelle, and altogether she was unsure how to best serve her people if she was not even on speaking terms with the King of the court at which they were staying.

Determinedly making up her mind to go seek out Clopin whether he liked it or not, Adalyn was stopped short when her tent flapped open and a gypsy strolled in.

She was a short, heavyset woman with gray hair twisted into a braid. Adalyn estimated her age to be around seventy.

Before Adalyn had even opened her mouth to speak, the woman hopped over to her and smiled brightly.

"It's Zanita, dear," she said warmly, grabbing Adalyn's hand and shaking it. There was a kindness to her smile and a gentleness to her touch that made Adalyn immediately like the older woman.

"_What_ is Zanita, Madame?" inquired Adalyn politely. The gypsy chuckled.

"My name dear, my name. What is yours?"

"Adalyn," she replied. "It is very nice to make your acquaintance. Perhaps you would be so good as to meet the rest of my people. I would be very glad to speak with you, only I have something rather important to do right now." Adalyn turned to exit her tent, only to find another gypsy standing in her way. Now coming into her tent was a small man, also in his seventies, with a beard and a full head of white hair, whose eyes were a twinkling blue.

"You must be the new one!" he beamed. Grabbing her hand much like Zanita had, he pumped up and down energetically. Zanita made her way over to his side and he comfortably draped an arm around her shoulders.

"You must be Zanita's husband," Adalyn commented lightly, delighted by the chipper couple.

"Oh yes," he replied, still showing his pearly whites.

Leaning in close to Adalyn, Zanita whispered,

"He kidnapped me from my father, many years ago. Never did like him much, the brute... but I suppose over time he has grown on me a bit."

The man rolled his eyes affectionately and shook his head.

"My mischievous wife enjoys telling such tall tales," he confided teasingly. "Not a one of them are true, don't you worry one speck. You may call me Buttons."

"I presume that's not the name your mother gave you?" replied Adalyn, giggling slightly.

"My mother? No, it wasn't I suppose. But it's what the gypsies call me, and I like it. It suits me, do not you think so? And it makes me feel younger."

"Well you don't _look_ any younger," scoffed his wife lovingly. Adalyn laughed as the old couple poked fun at each other, shamelessly flirting in front of her. She was very glad to have already met such fun, kind people in Paris. Having a network of support was very important no matter where you went, and Adalyn could tell she was already on her way to making good friends. If only Clopin had been so easy to befriend.

"What troubles you, Adalyn?" asked Zanita knowingly, "I see in your face; something is on your mind, is it not? We may seem rather like fools, but we can keep any confidences you care to give us."

"I was only thinking how I wish that Clopin had been as friendly as you and your husband," confided Adalyn, putting on a weak smile. Zanita and Buttons looked at each other, very confused.

"The King?" repeated Zanita incredulously. "But Clopin is friendly with everyone who is not his enemy, as you clearly are not, seeing as he brought you here to the court."

It somehow made Adalyn feel even more dismal to know that Clopin had a reputation for friendliness that evidently, for God only knows what reason, did not extend to her.

"Well he certainly was not friendly with _me_. I believe I may have upset him."

"Well what did you do to upset him, child?" Buttons asked.

"I'm not sure," she admitted. "I gave him a handkerchief given to me by Christelle more than twenty years ago, and he agreed to lead me here, but he went silent and did not show me where to find her. Now that I'm thinking of it, might you be so kind as to direct me her way? Christelle and Henri, you know them, yes?"

Both Buttons and Zanita immediately sobered up, displaying a mix of shock and sorrow. A terrible feeling filled Adalyn's heart as her blood seemed to cool in her veins. She had a dark sensation that she didn't wish to hear whatever would be said next. And yet, she knew she had to. It was her responsibility to hear such things.

Buttons stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on Adalyn's arm, brushing comfortingly with his thumb.

"The King is... very sensitive when it comes to Henri and Christelle," he explained, his voice barely louder than a strained whisper. "They were meant to return to us about twenty years ago, but they did not make it here alive... The cruel Judge Claude Frollo caught them on the docks. Christelle was killed in the struggle, and Henri was executed the next day. Their child was raised by Frollo, and only very recently has the poor boy become free of Frollo's control."

"This is due to the Judge's death," inserted Zanita.

Adalyn was speechless. There was a painful twisting in her stomach and the blood boiled in her heart. She wished to sob with sorrow and scream with anger, all at once. But she did none of this. The tears only got so far as the rim of her eyelashes, no further. The screams died at the back of her throat.

"I am devastated to hear this," said Adalyn truthfully, choosing her words with extreme care so that none would betray the chaos inside of her. "Henri and... and Christelle were so good to me, si magnifique. Such kindhearted people I have rarely known."

"It is true," agreed Zanita solemnly. "Clopin... has never been able to move on from that tragic loss."

"No, not a one of us have," put in Buttons.

Suddenly a cry of "Buttons!" was heard from beyond the tent, startling the little group. However, Buttons smiled sadly and inclined his head.

"I am sorry my ladies, but I must attend to this business. Until another time, Adalyn."

With a few quick steps (and a peck on the cheek for his wife), Buttons had left the tent.

"It is most convenient that he should be called away at this time," said Zanita suddenly.

"How do you mean this?" asked Adalyn in surprise.

"There is something more you should understand about Clopin," revealed Zanita, a look of concern upon her face. Her tender fondness of Clopin was very clear to Adalyn.

"And why could your husband not be here?"

"Because I have never told him. Indeed, I have never told a soul, not one soul, that's what he wished you see."

"Then... why should you tell _me_?"

"Because you my dear are the Queen of your people, no? It is most necessary for you to understand our King, to know things about him that others need not know. You must see his heart and soul, or you will continue to ache him in places that should not be touched."

"I'm not entirely sure I understand you, Zanita."

"Come, sit with me." As instructed, Adalyn took a seat on her bed beside the old woman.

"You must see, I have known Clopin ever since he was born. The boy was ever so fond of me, and I of him. He was a dear. I taught him the first he ever knew of cloth, fabric, sewing, all of which he uses now in his puppet shows. I am a seamstress, see? Well, when Clopin was still a young lad, not far past his twelfth birthday, this was when Henri and Christelle left to see the world. But you see, Clopin had fallen in love with Christelle."

Adalyn was shocked by the abruptness of this statement. Suddenly, everything made sense on a much deeper level. She felt a fool for not having seen this. The very look in Clopin's eyes when she'd mentioned Christelle's name should have been her sign. Yet, she hadn't understood. What an utter fool. An utter, insensitive fool.

"Not that Clopin would have ever done anything distasteful or... improper. No, no such thing, he was a sweet child, very good. So he did not of course tell her of his feelings, and as he was just a young boy, I knew that the fancy would pass soon enough.

"But for her departure, Clopin begged me to help him make her a gift. This was the only way he could express his adoration of Christelle. And so, I helped him. The gift he made was a handkerchief, one of the deepest purple silk, the like of which may only be found here, with me.

"I helped Clopin embroider the cloth with a letter 'C', to stand for Christelle, but also for Clopin, so that she would surely not forget him. I can see from your face that it is as I thought. This is the handkerchief which she gave to you, and now after all these years, it has come back to its beginnings. The shock must have affected Clopin very much, very deep. He is a strong leader, a good man, always putting on shows and taking care of his people, but he does not let them see his heart. His heart: so fragile, so easily broken even after so many moons have passed.

"I can see now that I was wrong those twenty and some years ago. It was no passing fancy. Clopin truly loved Christelle, and he has never recovered from her loss. This is the reason for why he has treated you callously I fear, and I can only hope that you will... give the King the chance he deserves. But do not tell him that I told you this, for he would only be angered. But please, Adalyn, tread warily with the King's heart. And do not be surprised when you see him tomorrow and he bounces and sings and jingles. He will pretend nothing has happened. You may play along with his games, but do not believe they show his heart."

Adalyn was thinking so intently about Zanita's words that she did not realize how absorbed she had been in her own ponderings until she looked up suddenly and saw that she was now alone in her tent. Briefly she wondered if this was just another of Zanita's "tall tales" as Buttons called them... but no, Adalyn believed all of it. Zanita had seemed too honest, sincere. And her love for Clopin was obvious, so there would be no reason for her to invent such a story.

Therefore, it all must be true. Adalyn felt horribly depressed both at the deaths of her friends and at the incredible pain she had unknowingly put Clopin through. From here on out she would do her best not to hurt him in that way again. She could only hope that Zanita was right in her prediction that Clopin would act like nothing had transpired between them, because all she wanted right now was the chance to make amends and become friends with the quirky King of the Paris gypsies.

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><p><em>Author's note: Thank you for reading! I'm sorry that these first two chapters have both been a bit serious and solemn, but the stage had to be set. There will be more of the fun sides of Clopin and Adalyn after this. Please review!<em>


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's note: Thank you for reading! Please favorite, alert, and REVIEW. Thanks so much to MaggieFaye for her lovely comment. I'm sorry the chapters are so short, but I hope you enjoy._

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><p>Upon waking up the next morning, Adalyn pushed through the flap of her tent, exiting into the open. Now that she'd given Clopin space for the night she knew it was time to visit him, to make certain that they would indeed be on good terms as Zanita had predicted.<p>

"Adalyn!" chimed a sweet voice. Adalyn turned to face one of the members of her troupe, Annie, a twenty-four year old dancer. Annie had an incredibly free-spirited and kind temperament, short curly hair, a generous smile, and she always wore a blue jewel in the middle of her forehead, something she had picked up during their travels.

"Yes Annie?"

"Isn't it simply wonderful here?" exclaimed the lively younger woman, spinning in a circle gaily. "Everyone has been so kind, making us so welcome on such short notice. All the sound and life and oh the colors... why, it's exquisite! I've never seen the like."

"Nor have I," agreed Adalyn, looking around her at the splendor of the court. "It certainly is very beautiful here."

"Where are you going to?" inquired Annie brightly.

"To see Clopin, the King. I was hoping to discuss a few matters with him."

"Well, do not be very much surprised if Gustav and I are out and about when you return," she said. Gustav was another of Adalyn's people: he was only seventeen (having joined the group two years earlier), but he was quite talented at juggling, tight-rope walking, and dancing. Gustav and Annie were good friends, and Adalyn may have wondered if their relationship did not extend further except that she could see that although Annie was very fond of Gustav, the feelings went no deeper than that of friendship.

"Monsieur Buttons has promised to show us around. You don't mind, do you Adalyn?"

"Of course not! It will be good for you two to learn more about the court. Who knows how long we will be staying, after all."

"Just so!" was the energetic reply. "Well, good luck with the King."

"Merci, Annie."

Watching the kind woman flounce away, Adalyn smiled fondly before heading in the direction of Clopin's tent.

Stopping just outside his chambers, Adalyn called,

"Hello, it is Adalyn. May I enter for a moment?"

"Ah-HA!" With very quick movements, Clopin flung open the flap in his tent and smiled brightly at Adalyn. "Tis the very maiden for whom I was looking _most_ urgently!" Clopin exclaimed happily, bouncing over to Adayln and grabbing her hands with his own. He gently pulled her into his tent before releasing her and skipping back to his bed, where he was fiddling with items in a container of some sort.

Examining the tent from the inside, Adalyn was impressed to see that though the vibrant colors befit his exuberant personality, the furnishings were not any grander or more extravagant than those of his subjects' tents. Adalyn approved wholeheartedly of a humble King.

Well... Clopin was perhaps not entirely _humble_, but clearly he understood fairness, and how to win the people's hearts.

"You cannot have been looking for me too hard," she pointed out, "You have not even left your _tent_ in this 'most urgent' search."

"Well, it is the thought that counts, no?" he replied brightly, giving a hearty chuckle, "I wished very much to speak with you, Madame Adalyn of the Traveling Gypsies."

"Oh please," she snorted slightly, "I hope you will address me only as Adalyn, not by such a silly title. What a mouthful!"

Evidently done with whatever had been occupying him, Clopin rose from his bed and swept off his hat smoothly, holding it to his chest and sweeping Adalyn a deep, graceful bow.

"As the mademoiselle wishes. You must call me... Clopin! Or, if you prefer, the Puppeteer. Or! If you are more _daring_, you may call me... O' Majestic One!"

"Clopin will do just fine," she assured him, a teasing glint in her eyes, "You forget monsieur, that _I_ am a _Queen_. I could hardly show deference to the King of another clan."

"Perhaps you would call me O' Majestic One, if I were to call you... Empress of the Night?" he offered, assuming a deeper 'seductive' tone and dramatically composing his facial features in a way that made it clear that he was making a mockery. Adalyn let out a short laugh and settled into a large grin. What Clopin could _not_ see, however, was that her hands had begun to tremble, so she held them together behind her back, trying to hide her nerves.

"And how did you choose that name?"

"Hmm..." Clopin cocked an eyebrow and pursed his lips, stroking his beard thoughtfully as he examined Adalyn. Circling around her, planting each foot very deliberately in an almost absurd clunky way, Clopin took his time devising an answer to this question- an answer which he seemed to be searching for on her body. He came to a halt once he'd made his way around her one time.

"Ah, of course! It is because there is something... secretive about you," he said quietly, "Or perhaps it is the curve of your hips, or perhaps it is because you attacked me in the dead of night." Adalyn's jaw dropped.

"No no, there was no _attacking_! I was waiting very patiently. You were the one who pounced upon _me_."

Clopin grinned, revealing his pointy molar. He winked.

"Oh yes, that's how it went. I am sorry about that... I suppose I do not take well to being surprised. Will you forgive me for how I acted?"

Suddenly Clopin's mini-me puppet seemed to pop out of nowhere.

"_No, don't forgive him!_" it cried.

"Quiet you," Clopin told it firmly.

"_He does not deserve it!_"

"Hush, you troublesome boy!" cried Clopin, bopping the puppet on the head with his fist. The puppet gave a little whimper and then was gone in a flash.

"Pay no mind to him," continued Clopin sweetly. Raising his arms as if to present himself, he said, "So, shall you forgive me?"

"Hmm..." pondered Adalyn, a mischievous smile dancing on her face. Clopin's eyebrows rose, as he was rather unused to being denied such a thing. Strolling casually towards him, Adalyn took her own turn to circle around the King, repeating his actions towards her. The fabric of her skirt made soft brushing sounds as her hips swished with each step.

When she'd made her way back around, Adalyn tapped her finger against her cheek, as though she were still thinking. After a moment she folded her arms casually and gave a smile on the verge of a smirk.

"I suppose I could forgive you... but it may very well cost you."

Clopin's mouth twitched at this. He was very unfamiliar with this sort of thing—after all, he was the _King_! No one would dare refuse him or tease him in this fashion—but he felt rather intrigued by the striking young Queen and her games.

"How could I ever repay you?" he asked humbly, sinking into another dramatic bow.

"I have not decided yet!" she proclaimed, "I shall keep it as a promise that you owe me a favor. You accept these terms, no?"

"It will be as you wish," he replied gracefully, smiling back at her.

"Good! Now that that's settled, perhaps you would be so good as to escort me out of your tent?" she requested imperially, still smiling. Clopin smiled innocently, his eyes sparkling.

"You are afraid of losing your way mademoiselle?"

"I am _ever_ so terrible with directions," she returned, her tone entirely sincere, her eyes widened into an innocent puppy-dog look. Clopin could not suppress the amused grin that spread across his face. Adalyn surely was a treat. A very witty, sarcastic treat.

Stepping forward, Clopin drew the tent's flap aside, gesturing graciously with his arm for her to exit.

"You see? The exit was just here, no further!"

"Oh of course. I'll try to remember my way next time. Thank you, Clopin." Curtsying with a flourish, Adalyn twirled about and strolled away confidently.

"Oh no no, thank _you_... Empress of the Night," Clopin whispered as he watched her disappear into the crowd.


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's note: Thank you for reading! Please favorite, alert, and REVIEW. What do you think?_

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><p>The next day found Clopin having dinner with Adalyn, Annie, Gustav, and the other members of Adalyn's band: Rosamarie, Edric, and their daughter Lilianne. Clopin had bounced into Adalyn's tent earlier that day proposing that Adalyn and her people dine with him so that they could all become better acquainted. Clopin had frolicked away before Adalyn could even give an answer, but of course, she had done as he wished.<p>

Clopin had set up one of the spare, larger tents specifically for the occasion (his own tent was too small to accommodate so many people), and in the evening he had sent one of his men, Jasper, to fetch Adalyn. When she first stepped into the tent, Adalyn was overcome by the splendor. There were candles arranged in a ring in the center of the room to provide light, and there were colorful blankets and pillows set up for them all to sit on.

The man Jasper had been assigned the duty of serving the Gypsy King and his guests, and he did so in a respectful silence. Jasper was a big man, very well-built and buff, and he looked to be about thirty. His eyes were a dark brown, as was his shoulder-length hair and beard. His face kept a very serious expression the whole night, and Adalyn could not quite decide from the look of him whether he was a rough brute or simply a serious man who happened to be quiet and shy.

Their server did not occupy much of Adalyn's thoughts however. To her pleasure, she found that dining with Clopin was a delight not only for herself but for her friends. Annie was very sweet as always, and she quickly accepted Clopin as one of their own. Gustav was a bit more wary, but he tended to be fine with anything that Annie was fine with. Rosamarie—a stern, buxom woman of thirty-six years—found herself identifying with Clopin's more humble, serious side, the one he employed in his kingly duties. Rosamarie's husband however, was a different story. Edric was a big, burly man with short hair, a mustache, and a beard, and he was incredibly gregarious. He was a very easygoing man with a warm booming laugh that was easily evoked. He and Clopin traded jokes and magician's tricks. The last member of the troupe—Rosamarie and Edric's five-year old daughter Lilianne—was particularly fond of the puppeteer. Clopin had a natural liking for children, and Lilianne was no exception. He teased her with his puppets and played games with her throughout the course of the evening. The tent was frequently humming with the loud shrieking giggles of the little girl.

"When I'm older," she exclaimed proudly to Clopin at one point, "I will be just like Maman, marry someone like Papa, have a big sister like Annie, a big brother like Gustav, and a best friend like Adalyn!"

"Oh? Is that so, ma cherie?" he replied with a look of wonderment. "What a lucky mademoiselle you shall be! Why, even the Gods could be jealous of such a blessed person. But I think you are right. You are indeed very, very... blessed!" Clopin used his mini-me to tickle Lilianne, and she erupted in another fit of giggles. Squirming out of his reach, Lilianne ran around the tent back to her mother, sending Clopin a triumphant smile.

"Clopin, you have a visitor." Everyone turned to Jasper, who had finally spoken in his deep, husky voice.

"Oh?" Clopin perked up in surprise. Suddenly the tent flap pushed up and a gypsy woman was illuminated by the light from outside the tent.

"My _dear_ Esmeralda!" exclaimed Clopin excitedly. Hopping up from his seat, Clopin practically engulfed the gypsy in an energetic embrace. The woman gave a bright laugh.

"It is good to see you, Clopin."

"Come, come; meet the newest additions to our court!" Clopin led Esmeralda into the tent, holding her hand. Adalyn smiled at the newcomer, curious about her relation to the king.

"This... is Esmeralda," he introduced grandly, "the most exquisite dancer to ever have graced my court!" The woman laughed again and nudged him teasingly.

"My goodness Clopin, you certainly like to make a fuss." Turning to the others, she smiled kindly. "It is good to meet you all. I hope our dear King has not been too much of a bother." From where he stood beside Esmeralda, Clopin adopted a sad puppy-dog look, but Esmeralda paid him no mind. Adalyn smiled in amusement and rose gracefully from her seat.

"Well, he is a fool perhaps, but it is no bother," she said teasingly. Clopin's jaw dropped in shock before he crossed his arms with a huff, putting on a show of being hurt. Adalyn paid him no more heed than Esmeralda had. "I am Adalyn, the Queen of our small troupe. We are traveling gypsies. This is Rosamarie, Edric, Lilianne, Gustav, and Annie."

"Well hello," Esmeralda addressed directly to Lilianne with a soft smile. Lilianne smiled back and returned the greeting. Esmeralda turned back to Clopin—who had recovered from his "hurt"—and they clasped forearms familiarly.

"You do not come to see me nearly often enough," pouted Clopin.

"I'm sorry," she replied honestly, "I want to, it's just that everything has been so busy. Now that the wedding is past, I should have more time."

"So... you do not live in the Court of Miracles anymore?" questioned Adalyn. Esmeralda turned to her with a sad smile.

"No, she does not," Clopin answered for her, "She lives above the ground now." Esmeralda swatted his shoulder gently.

"I can speak for myself," she pointed out. Clopin shrugged.

"Why did you move up there?" asked Adalyn curiously.

"My husband is the Captain of the Guard," explained Esmeralda, "He lives aboveground, so I moved up there to be with him. We visit as often as we are able, but it's not enough for _this_ one of course," she scolded her friend teasingly.

Unbeknownst to Esmeralda and Clopin, Adalyn had stopped dead at the other gypsy's words. Her heart beat seemed to slow in her anger.

"Pardon, did you say that you married the Captain of the Guard?" she asked blankly, allowing none of her cold anger to bleed through.

"Yes," affirmed Esmeralda, "Phoebus. We were married just this week." Suddenly, flames burned in Adalyn's eyes, and her expression made clear her contempt towards the other woman. Esmeralda's green eyes opened wide in surprise as her brow furrowed confusedly.

"Adalyn?" said Clopin gently, looking concerned. Stepping forward he placed a tender hand on her arm. "Is something the matter?"

"She's a traitor," Adalyn hissed suddenly. Everyone else in the tent froze in shock at her hateful words.

"Excuse me?" said Esmeralda, hoping she'd misheard.

"You're a traitor!" she repeated through clenched teeth. The anger overtaking her restraint, Adalyn quickly began to walk menacingly towards Esmeralda. Clopin, seeing the dangerous look in her eyes, swiftly jumped in between the women and held Adalyn back.

"You married one of _them_!" cried Adalyn as she struggled against Clopin's grip. "One of the _soldiers_! How could you? You're a disgrace to the gypsies, a traitor!"

"Calm down, ma cherie, please," said Clopin firmly, retaining his strong hold on her. "Phoebus is not like the others! If you knew him, you would understand. Esmeralda has done nothing wrong, please, be calm."

"It's fine Clopin," cut in Esmeralda sharply, "I need to be going as it is. I will come see you another time."

With a whoosh of fabric Esmeralda was gone, disappearing out of the tent and back into the court. Clopin finally released Adalyn, who stood there huffing angrily for a moment, glaring at the space which Esmeralda had just vacated.

Turning to Clopin, who looked sad and thoughtful, Adalyn glared at him accusingly.

"How could you let one of your own marry a soldier?" she seethed.

"I do not control my subjects, Adalyn," replied the King firmly. "Even if I did, I would not have stopped their union. Esmeralda is like a sister to me, and I have never seen her happier. You would deny her such a thing?"

"I would deny any relationship between my people and the soldiers," she snapped back. Refusing to remain in Clopin's presence any longer, Adalyn twirled around him and strolled out of the tent and into the Court of Miracles once more.


End file.
